Legacy
by Mirror and Darkling
Summary: Her story began when her wedding dress was stained with blood, when she became a reluctant hero with blood stained hands, trying her best to survive in a world that required her sword when all she wanted was to rest.
1. I Will Not Bow

Legacy

**Author's Note: **After reading other stories based on this game, I decided I would try my hand at one myself. I'm actually really excited, and I hope you enjoy! Welcome to my Dragon Age character's life. Beka Tabris, a city elf. It'll skip around a bit, but I'll always try to fill you in on what has happened. For this chapter I'm going to stick pretty close to the game so you can see where she came from/how she reacted.

This will be updated. Slowly.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Dragon Age. I do, however, own Beka.

**  
Warning: **This is Dragon Age, people. What do you think is going to happen?

xxx

_And I'll survive, paranoid  
I have lost the will to change  
And I am not proud, cold blooded, fake  
I will shut the world away_

I will not!

I will not bow, I will not break  
I will shut the world away  
I will not fall, I will not fade  
I will take your breath away

**I Will Not Bow, Chapter One**

_"Take another step,  
human, and I guarantee it shall be your last.  
My friends are dead and my life is in tatters  
because of you and your kin. I have  
nothing to lose, but you still possess  
your other eye."_

-Dragon Age: Origins Wiki

xxx

It had been her mother Adaia who had given her the nickname Beka. Her father had been the one to name her Rebekah Tabris, as was the deal. It was Cyrion's right to name the child if it was a girl, and Adaia's if it was a boy. Adaia had found the name…nice. One day, when her father was out of the house, and six year old Rebekah was busy entertaining herself with a rag doll, Adaia had come around the corner to say, "See here, Rebekah, you're a girl but that doesn't mean you have to act like one. Come over here and I'll teach you something interesting. And I don't care what your father says - I'm only going to call you Beka from now on." Ever since then, Rebekah only answered to Beka.

This pleased her mother, to say the least.

And so her mother taught her about knife throwing and swordplay, and Beka found that she was very good at it. Adaia was thrilled, laughing when she caught her husband rolling his eyes whenever he stumbled upon the pair. However, the year Beka turned sixteen, humans killed her mother, and her training came to a halt. Her father's knowledge was limited to simple words, and he taught Beka all he could, but his skill with a sword was sorely lacking…

Her father _was_ well off, for an elf living in the alienage, enough to find a good husband for his daughter. "I'm giving you the chance for a good life," he told her softly when he revealed to her his plans. "I love you, and I want what is best for you."

Beka had been upset at first – an arranged marriage! She had dreamed of a marriage like her parents. Cyrion and Adaia had loved each other so much, and her father mourned her loss even after all these years. Now she was nineteen and facing an arranged marriage, and though she understood that her father was just trying to give her a good start in life, she couldn't help but feel a little upset. At least she wasn't alone, Beka figured, as she would have her cousin Soris with her.

She dreamed of her mother the night before, and when she woke to Shianni insisting she wake up _now_, all Beka wanted was to fall back asleep.

"Come on, cousin of mine. We only let you sleep in only because you deserved it."

"A little longer," Beka mumbled, pulling the blanket up over her head.

"Come _on_," Shianni said again. "You do remember what today is, right?"

Beka paused, wondering whether or not to answer that or not. Of course she remembered – how in the hell could she forget? "Let me guess? Your birthday." she answered, just to annoy her.

Shianni snorted. "No, you idiot; it's your wedding." The red head ripped the blankets off her darker haired cousin, ignoring Beka's shouts of protest. "Your fiancé has arrived early, so get up and get ready. Your father is waiting for you."

Beka sighed and lifted the pillow from her head so she could peek out. Shianni was smiling, and Beka tried to find it in herself to smile back with just as much happiness.

"I guess I have no choice in the matter," Beka groaned and sat up, brushing back her hair.

"That's…one way to look at it," Shianni said with a laugh, already opening the footlocker by her bed. She took out the wedding clothes that Beka had stuffed into the bottom of the trunk the minute she gotten them, shaking out the wrinkles before tossing it over Beka's head. "Here - hurry okay?"

Beka scowled at her wedding attire. The dress was probably the cleanest thing she owned, pure white, sheer in the sleeves with delicate lace at the bottom. Her father had been saving up to buy her something suitable to wear if the situation ever presented itself for quite awhile. Beka had been touched, but looking at it now just made her sick. Swallowing hard, Beka stood to change, slipping the fabric over her head and marveling at how soft it was. Once dressed, she stood in front of her footlocker and ran her hands over her stomach, smoothing out the front of the dress, and gazed down at herself. She had never would have thought to buy herself something like this. Beka had the right body for it, of course, with long legs and a slim waist, but the fabric itself looked _expensive_. She cast a glance over her shoulder to where she knew her father was waiting for her in the other room and bit her lip.

_Father_, she thought. _You've done so much for me. What have I done in return?_

Shaking herself from her gloomy mood – a bride isn't suppose to be sad on her wedding day – she brushed out her long hair and tied it back. Before she left her room, she knelt to retrieve a poultice from her footlocker. She never left home without one on her person, a lesson that had been drilled into her by her mother. She went to see her father then, worrying on the inside of her lip. Twisting her hands together, she approached her father slowly, refusing to meet his eyes.

"My little girl," Cyrion said in greeting. "This will be the last day I will have a chance to call you that. You look beautiful; I wish your mother could see you."

"I miss her."

"As do I, Beka, as do I. Anyway," Cyrion quickly changed the subject, and it hurt Beka to know that her father still couldn't talk about Adaia. "You have a lot to do before the ceremony. Go find Soris, and he'll introduce you to your fiancé. I'll see you later, Beka."

Beka smiled and stood up on tiptoes to press a kiss against her father's cheek. She turned to leave when a hand on her shoulder made her pause.

"And before I forget," her father frowned. "Don't mention the knife-work your mother taught you."

Beka's face fell. "I take it you didn't tell him?" _How am I supposed to live with him if he doesn't know _who_ I am?_

"I thought it would be best. I don't think I would have found somebody if I had mentioned it."

Beka pursed her lips and nodded, leaving the house as quickly as possible.

The entire alienage seemed to have gathered for the celebration, and Beka took in the drinking elves with a slight smile on her face. At least people were enjoying themselves, she figured. Setting off at a trot, Beka made her way down the street past singing elves and barking dogs. This was Beka's home, and it was the only life she had ever known. Outside of these walls, Denerim was just as busy, if not more, and Beka didn't think she could ever survive outside of a city. Cities were always so busy and full of life, and Beka liked sitting back and watching people. Beka didn't do well with the quiet.

"Beka! Come to enjoy the last minutes of our independence together?"

Beka whirled to face Soris, her cousin and partner in crime, and laughed. "Getting cold feet, are we?"

"Who wouldn't? I hear your betrothed is great, while mine is…" Soris trailed off, frowning heavily. Beka nudged him in the side with her hip.

"I'm sure she's just fine," Beka cooed, patting his hand. He looked down at her, still frowning, so Beka nudged him again, harder this time. "Oh stop being such a baby," Beka continued. "She can't be too bad. Father isn't about to match you up with some old crone."

"So says the women whose getting married to somebody handsome."

"Well," Beka said slowly, her lips twitching up in a teasing smirk. "If you're so put out with your fiancé, we could switch." She laughed loudly at Soris's blush. She let him splutter a bit. "I'm kidding Soris. C'mon, let's go meet them."

The meeting went off without a hitch, if you chose to ignore the three human noblemen – Vaughan, the Arl's son and some of his friends - who had suddenly appeared, thinking they could man-handle the women. Beka had watched with a grimace as Shianni dug herself into an even deeper hold, and before she could stop herself, she found herself saying, "Perhaps his father should have taught him better manners. Now get out." Soris had groaned. Beka had groaned.

Beka hated nobles.

At least Valora and Nelaros were pleasing enough to look at. Beka couldn't quite see why Soris was so against marrying the elven women. The more she thought about it, the more she was beginning to like settling down, even if it was an arranged marriage. It was a chance to have a peaceful life – Beka dreamed about being a mother like Adaia. She could leave behind the life of the rogue that her mother wanted her to pursue and start a family. Beka was feeling quite happy once her betrothed left them, and she couldn't even find it in herself to dismiss the Grey Warden that Soris seemed so worried about.

She was even smiling when she took her place beside Nelaros as the wedding ceremony began. At least until Vaughan returned.

And she woke up in the Castle of Denerim.

xxx

**Author's Note:** x-x

If there are mistakes, opps!


	2. Peace

Legacy

**Author's Note: **This was updated faster than I thought it would. 8D

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own Dragon Age. Beka is mine, though.

**Warning: **Again – this is Dragon Age. What do you think will happen?

xxx

**Peace, Chapter Two**

The entire journey to Ostagar was spent thinking about her father's farewell. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was disappointed in her. Beka had a thousand things she wanted to say to him. _I'm sorry. I know I haven't shown how much I appreciate you, Father. I didn't wish for this, Father._ Now she didn't have that chance. Beka doubted she would even have the chance to go back to the alienage, to have a chance to start a family. Beka twisted the wedding ring she had taken from Nelaros's body back at the palace. She wasn't sure why she had taken it; it represented something that would never happen, and Beka sighed.

"Do you regret it?"

Beka's head snapped up to stare at her traveling companion, Duncan. "What?" she mumbled dumbly.

"Do you regret killing all those people to save your cousin?"

"I-I…why would you ask me something like that?"

"As a Grey Warden, your duty will be to protect by killing those who threaten the peace."

Beka frowned at him, but Duncan only tended to the fire, seemingly ignoring her. Licking her lips, Beka started slowly, "Just because the sword hilt fits your hand doesn't mean you enjoy the feel of it." She paused. "I have the skills. Am I not allowed to regret taking somebody's life, even if they deserved it?"

Duncan smiled, if only a little bit. "I suppose I was surprised at how easily you took up a blade to defend your friends, after showing restraint when confronting me."

Beka had surprised _herself_ at how angry she had been during their capture. Watching them kill one of her friends, her fiancé, and Vaughan hurt her cousin…it had been too much. What right had he had – just because he was a human lord? _That_ is why Beka hated nobles. _That_ is why Beka took up arms and fought her way to Shianni, destroying her wedding dress in the process. Beka still had it, stuffed into the bottom of her pack, and stained with blood. A reminder of what had happened. If Beka hadn't done it, who would have?

Beka shrugged. "It's a good thing I'm becoming a Grey Warden, then – if I have to kill, I might as well be doing it for a good reason."

Even still…Beka heaved another heavy sigh.

xxx

Beka received a much friendlier welcome than she had expected from a King. Of course, he had originally come out to greet Duncan, but being able to greet the new Grey Warden recruit was just icing on the cake, Beka was sure. Beka had tried to be as polite as possible, too tired to even to manage a glare at the young king. The journey had been rough. She couldn't keep the slightly impatient expression off her face, and he went off into the camp quickly. Duncan left her to her own devices, something Beka was very happy for, and went to his own tent saying, "Go find Alistair when you're ready. Don't take too long, however."

Alistair was an interesting character, in Beka's opinion. For somebody who was about to go up against the darkspawn horde, he was all smiles and jokes. It was a breath of fresh air for Beka, who, having spent nearly her entire time at Ostagar surrounded by anxious and scared soldiers was ready to scream. The entire camp was tense and there wasn't a place to go to escape the prayers being lifted up to their Maker. It made her jumpy. When Beka found herself teaming up with him and two other recruits, she kept close to the blonde Warden.

_Even more killing_, Beka thought as she drew her blade from the back of a Genlock. She was frowning and Daveth and Jory were staring at her, wondering why her lip was trembling. _Oh, Maker, I want to go home._

She should have expected it. She _had_ expected it. Beka knew Duncan was right; that being a Grey Warden meant she would have blood on her hands. Maybe she shouldn't be a Grey Warden, but what other choice did she have? It was either this or be executed for killing an Arl's son. _Maybe that would have been a better choice_, Beka thought bitterly as she slipped her long sword into its sheath. _Then I wouldn't be stuck doing something I don't want to do…_

"Beka…?"

She turned at the sound of her name to face Alistair. The group had gone ahead of her, but Alistair had paused to wait. "I'm sorry, my mind was elsewhere."

"Not exactly the smartest thing to do here, you know?" Daveth called out. Beka's fist clenched.

"Please hurry," Jory's voice was kinder and a lot more polite, but it still made Beka grit her teeth. "We only need one more vial of blood."

"Of course," she grumbled, falling into step beside Alistair.

"Are you okay?" Alistair asked, watching her carefully, as if she would suddenly burst into tears. Beka snorted.

"I'm fine. I just can't stop thinking that I would rather be anywhere else than here."

_They say it's an honor to become a Grey Warden. They can have their honor – I want my family. Do I sound whiny? I really, really don't care.  
_

Pursing her lips, Beka crossed her arms, tapping her fingers against her arm. She felt confined – she had burrowed armor, as she had none, and the feeling was something Beka was unused to. Strange how comfortable Alistair looked in his heavier armor, but Beka supposed it probably felt like a second skin by now. He had probably been fighting since he was a little boy.

With that thought in mind, what right did Beka have to complain?

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?" Alistair hadn't left her side, and he was still looking at her with a slightly worried expression. Beka stared at him, coming to a halt. Alistair called ahead to Daveth and Jory to wait, but his full attention was on the small elf standing in front of him.

"When I become a Grey Warden," Beka began slowly, "After this ritual or whatever…I want you to remind me every day why I'm doing this." She motioned with a hand around them, pointing to the dead darkspawn just a couple of feet away.

Alistair gave her a odd look. "What reason would that be?"

Beka smiled ruefully. "To protect others from the monsters – it doesn't matter whether those monsters are human or darkspawn. Promise me, Alistair?"

"Of course," Alistair said, and his face was serious. It was such a rare expression for him, and Beka trusted him. For a Shem, he wasn't too bad. She nodded her head in thanks.

Beka stomped ahead of the group then, drawing a dagger and throwing it into the back of a Genlock archer.

xxx

**Author's Note: **It's going to be important to remember that Beka's desire to return home and have a normal life is going to be a driving factor in her decisions, but also knowing that it is her duty to protect. Beka _is_ whiny. Beka is _nineteen_. She's been ripped from the only life she ever knew and thrust into a situation where she is told to kill and kill a lot.

Anyway – hope you enjoyed. Review, please?


	3. Origins

Legacy

**Author's Note: **…I can't seem to stay away from this story. Gahhh! Bad Mirror, you have other things you need to be working on, like Heart of Darkness. Somebody just kill me now…

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own. Beka is mine though.

**Warning: **Nothing major in this chapter. Yay.

xxx

**Origins, Chapter Three**

Beka's gaze remained fixated to the fire as it spat and crackled, burning away at the wood Alistair had just added to it. Trying to block out the dog's excessive barking and Leliana's humming, she idly traced a scar on her chest through her thin tunic, thinking back on the past couple of days. Just three weeks ago she had been living in the alienage in Denerim. Now she was a traitor, falsely accused by Teyrn Loghain, and possibly one of the last two Grey Wardens left in Ferelden. Beka squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the images that flashed through her mind at that thought. It was up to her and Alistair now to defeat this archdemon that Morrigan's mother had told them about.

Morrigan…

Beka had first met the witch in the wilds. Daveth and Jory had seemed absolutely terrified of her and the old women she had introduced as her mother. The two of them lived alone in the wilds and feared nothing, despite the darkspawn threat that practically knocked at their door. It had been Flemeth who had saved them from Ostagar after the darkspawn had overwhelmed them. The easy task of lighting the beacon to signal the charge had turned into a fight for their lives against a rather nasty ogre. The beacon had been lit, Morrigan had told her, but Loghain had sounded the retreat.

He left the others to die.

Beka's eyes flickered open. It was Loghain fault – their failure at Ostagar was entirely _his_ fault. They had had a chance against the darkspawn, hadn't they? And now he was pinning the blame upon the Grey Wardens, saying it was _them_ who betrayed their king and left the King and his men to die.

Beka counted off the deaths in her head.

Daveth and Jory – they hadn't survived the ritual, and sometimes when she woke up after a horrible nightmare, Beka wished she hadn't survived as well. Duncan and the King, Cailan – both left to turn cold on a bloody battlefield. Beka could only assume that the Circle mage and the tower guard that had joined them on their task to light the beacon were dead, killed by the arrows the darkspawn had fired when they had swarmed through the door. Beka touched her scar again.

Alistair settling down a ways from her drew her out of her somber thoughts, and she watched as he went about the task of fixing his armor. It was oddly comforting to know that she wasn't alone in this. She hated to think about what would happen if she was the only remaining Grey Warden. It had taken everything to kill that ogre, and despite her attempts to dodge it had still managed to land a couple of kicks, knocking her off her feet and onto her backside. Ending the Blight meant defeating the archdemon, and if a stupid ogre knocked her back less than five seconds into the fight, then what chance did Beka have standing up against the _archdemon_?

Beka blew some hair out of her face and stretched out, her thoughts turning back to her latest dream. The dragon, huge and powerful, had haunted her dreams for the past three days. The first night it had just been Alistair, Morrigan, the dog and herself, camped out beside the Imperial Highway. Beka had tried to hide her terror, and only the dog (a Mabari war hound that she had helped back at Ostagar, who had forced its way into the group) had seemed to sense that there was something wrong with her. She had spent the rest of the night pressing her face against his neck, breathing in the smell of dog. The second night she woke to find the fire out and Alistair and Morrigan in their respective tents. They arrived in Lothering the next day, as Morrigan had suggested, buying supplies, catching up on news and rumors, and also picking up two other companions while they were at it. Leliana was a bit strange, but she meant well and she knew how to handle a blade. Sten was…

Well, Beka wasn't quite sure what to think of Sten.

The third night…the third night had been the worst. Unable to keep the tiny scream of panic back, Alistair had shaken her awake and attempted to console her as best as he could. Despite his comforting words, she couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled over her.

_It had felt so real._

Alistair had said it was.

Beka jerked, blinking a couple of times, as she pushed those thoughts away. In the effort to forget about darkspawn, nightmares, and archdemons, the young elf dragged her pack towards her. At Lothering, she had stuffed all the items they had purchased into it – several poultices, and lyrium potions for Morrigan, along with some clothing. She began to sort them out into five groups so that every member of her party would be taken care of. She was searching for a missing lyrium potion – she had bought five, not four – when she found them.

There, underneath her blood stained wedding dress, were her mother's boots. She tossed the dress aside to reach them, taking them out of her pack with an astonished look on her face. She didn't remember packing them.

_Father must have done it while I was saying goodbye to Shianni._

"This is lovely," Leliana said, having come up to sit beside her. She was holding her dress up, pinching the white cloth between pointer finger and thumb, avoiding the blood. "Shame that it is stained, though, yes?"

"If you like it, you can have it," Beka mumbled, tracing one of the vine patterns that adorned her mother's boots.

"But it is yours," Leliana argued, shaking her head. Beka bent leg and rested her chin upon her knee, giving a tiny shrug.

"That's not my life anymore."

"You want it to be…"

Beka was surprised by the comment, and she lifted her head to pin Leliana with a level stare. "Perhaps," she finally agreed.

xxx

**Author's Note:** Purely background information, and a way to introduce the first of the party members into the story.

God, Leliana scares me…so send me a review?


	4. Violet Hill

Legacy

**Author's Note: **I really, really cannot stay away from this story. Every time I tell myself that I need to write a chapter for Take Me, I end up sitting down and thinking up what will happen next in this. Haha, sorry Take Me fans. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Dragon Age, but I do own Beka~

**Warning: **Again – it's Dragon Age. Beware.

xxx

_Was a long and dark December_  
_When the banks became cathedrals_  
_And the fog_  
_Became God_

_Priests clutched onto bibles_  
_Hollowed out to fit their rifles_  
_And the cross was held aloft_

**Violet Hill, Chapter Four**

As they grew closer to the village of Redcliffe, the more eager Beka became. Thoughts of a hot bath and a soft bed filled her head, and it got to the point where she was nearly skipping down the road. If the others noticed, they didn't comment. Her excitement was contagious, for soon Leliana had launched into a tale about a young woman and her dog (and after overhearing Leliana talking to the Mabari hound that one night at camp, Beka was certain she knew who this story was about) and their adventures.

She couldn't help but be a little impatient when Alistair bid her to stop, motioning for the others to continue. "I…need to tell you something, before we get to the village." He looked nervous.

"What's on your mind?" Beka shifted her weight from one foot to the other. _Hot bath, hot bath…_

"Remember how I said Arl Eamon raised me?"

"Yes." Beka frowned, wondering where this was going. When they had been exchanging life stories on the way to Lothering, Alistair had told her that his mother had died giving birth to him, and that Eamon that taken care of him until he had been packed up and sent away to train as a templar.

_Hot bath, hot bath!_

"I'm a bastard! My mother was a servant and my father was the king!"

_Hot bath, hot ba_ – wait, what? Beka's eyebrow rose and silently urged him to continue.

"My father was King Maric. There, I said it! I just thought this would come up and now that you know, we can go." Alistair turned to leave, his face twisted into a grimace. Beka stopped him with a hand to his arm.

"Wait, Alistair – please. Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" Her voice was gentle, but really Beka was a bit upset. Hadn't he trusted her enough to tell her this? Granted, they had only known each other for a couple of week. But still…

He licked his lips and, as if unsure, said slowly, "I didn't want you to know."

Oh. Her shoulders slumped. For some reason, that statement hurt worse than him not telling her in the first place, and more than it sure have. _It's not like I made an effort to be somebody he could trust_, Beka realized. _I spend more time grumbling over my own problems than worrying about them._

"I mean, most people treat me differently when they find out, you know?" Alistair shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. Beka recognized the motions – he did it whenever he was nervous. "Duncan did – he kept me away from the battles, and so did King Cailan. It's so much easier to be just some commoner who happened to become a Grey Warden; less judgmental glances, less rumors. Loghain probably knows, but I expected that."

"I understand, Alistair," Beka shook her head. "You don't have to explain yourself. I guess I'm just not used to people not telling me things." Back home, secrets could end up getting you killed by the guards.

Alistair was all smiles again, and he extended his hand. "Whatever I know, you will know. How's that sound?"

Beka nodded, satisfied, and clasped his hand with a wide grin. "We've got a deal – expect the same from me."

The matter settled, Alistair hoisted his pack up higher on his shoulder and turned to face the rest of the group, who were waiting, if a little impatient, down the hill. "Are we ready to proceed?" Sten asked, uncrossing his arms. Beka apologized for making them wait and motioned them to walk on, and once again Beka found herself thinking about that hot bath.

A suddenly thought occurred to Beka then, when her eyes fell upon Alistair's back. She raised an eyebrow and asked, "Does this mean you're the heir to the throne?"

Alistair cast a horrified glance over his shoulder. "Oh Maker, I hope not."

Leliana fell into step beside her as Beka giggled. The bard talked about the red clay and hills stained with blood, and Beka politely listened with a half-smile quirking up the corner of her mouth.

_A hot bath, I'm getting a hot bath!_

xxx

It turned out she wouldn't be getting that hot bath after all. A man from the village, who clutched at a strung bow so hard his knuckles were white, met them. He revealed to them that they hadn't heard from the castle in days, and the village itself had been attacked every night for the past couple of nights. They needed help. Tomas, as the man was later introduced, took them to meet with a man dressed in noble clothes – expensive and colorful, the kind of clothes Beka never would be able to afford. They were stained with mud, ripped, and slightly faded, and the sword at his side had probably seen it's fair share of action. Teagan, Alistair whispered to her, was Eamon's brother. Beka could only nod her thanks, for Teagan had went on to explain what was happening in more detail. Creatures, demons the undead, whatever they were, left the castle each night to attack the village. The people were scared – these were fishermen and farmers, and were unfit for battle.

Beka could sense Sten's impatience, Leliana's horror, and Morrigan's complete disregard, but it was Alistair who worried her. His face was blank, hard as stone, but his eyes swirled with emotion. She could see the worry in his pale blue eyes.

"It seems foolish to help them," Sten rumbled from somewhere behind her. Beka shrugged. "We have darkspawn to fight. We are wasting time."

"We have to get into the castle somehow, Sten. If these things are appearing from the castle, we might as well…" Beka said.

He agreed, if reluctantly.

Alistair was extremely grateful. This was his home after all, right?

Beka linked arms with him and called her hound to her side, leading the group out of the Chantry-turned-refuge, and out into the blinding sun.

She told Sten to go and convince Dwyn to help out, as per Murdock, the town's mayor, had suggested. She sent him off with instructions to _not kill anybody, please _and took Alistair and Morrigan with her to get the blacksmith's help while Leliana and the dog stayed in the Chantry.

Alistair wouldn't stop laughing. When Beka asked why, he told her that she had been grumbling under her breath about sexist town mayors for the last five minutes.

Beka pinched him.

xxx

She had never seen anything like them. They were easy enough to kill, but the brute force behind their attacks left her arm tingling and shoulder aching. Her dog was constantly at her side, snapping at anybody who came to close. Once or twice a heavy mace grazed her side, and one attack had managed to put a dent in the side of her armor.

Beka straightened to check on each of her party members. Leliana, who was so unused to wearing armor for long periods of time, hadn't thought about how tired she would get so quickly. But the bard was smiling widely and singing snippets of songs. Sten was swinging his burrowed long sword in wide arches, cutting down the creatures before they could even lift their maces. Morrigan fought several feet away, her fighting style more directed towards ranged attacks. She seemed unharmed. Alistair, who had practically thrown himself into the middle of the fray, was panting heavily, staggering under the weight of his shield. The creatures seemed to flock towards him, beating against his shield and trying to find a way through his defense. Beka called out to him, but he only smiled and turned to face an approaching corpse.

The militia from Redcliffe fell until there was only a couple left, and Beka was clueless as to what to do. Did she have the right to order these people to leave their stations and run for safety? She did have a right to order them around in the first place? When she had ordered the knights to stand their ground at the gate, she hadn't even thought about it. She knew that the village would fall if these creatures broke through. Ordering Ser Perth and his knights had been the most logical thing.

"Dawn is approaching." Morrigan had joined her, sensing her concern. She might have cared very little about the village's welfare, but Morrigan wasn't one to back down when challenged.

Beka pushed sweaty strands of hair out of her face. "But will they survive to see it?" She pointed her dagger to the remaining militiamen.

"I do not know," Morrigan sniffed.

In the end, only one survived, and Beka sheathed her sword, reaching out to lay her hand over one of the man's eyes. Alistair stood by her side, a familiar and comforting presence, and one that Beka greatly appreciated. Then she stood, wincing at the pain in her side, and watched as the sun poked up over the horizon and the people began to reappear from their hiding places.

xxx

**Author's Note:** Whelppppp, there you go. Redcliffe village. Personally I hate going to Redcliffe village, so I get it over and done with as soon as possible! I don't hate it as much as I do the mage's tower, which is next, and Orzammar. Orzammar, I detest thee!


End file.
